


Deacon St John // Echoes of Life

by C_caywood



Category: Days Gone (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Best Friends, Blood and Violence, Character Death, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Freakers - Freeform, Gun Violence, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mental Breakdown, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Post-Zombie Apocalypse, Rape Recovery, References to Drugs, Slow Romance, Suicidal Thoughts, Survivor Guilt, Wilderness Survival, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:33:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27736921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/C_caywood/pseuds/C_caywood
Summary: Deacon is focused on finding Sarah but with days turning into months he is starting to lose hope. Boozer is frustrated with him and him and threatens to leave him for Iron Mikes camp unless he gives up his search and realizes that he needs to give up. Deacon feels lost until Y/N shows up hurt and bloodied and needs his help. Conflicted and confused Deacon must confront his feelings towards Y/N and chose whether or not to continue to look for Sarah.
Relationships: Deacon St. John/Original Character(s), Deacon St. John/Reader
Kudos: 6





	1. Who are you Again?

**Author's Note:**

> Hi Lovies  
> Feel free to leave ideas and constructive criticism!! I hope I can meet more of you that love Deacon as much as I do.
> 
> Q&A: Do you prefer Y/N type stories, an OC, or just in-game relationship stories.

The warm gold sun shone on the tower, and the foliage around it gleamed with the morning dew. Deacon took a deep breath as he looked down the site of his M24 sniper rifle. As he exhaled into the cold air, he could see the small oxygen cloud he had created. Boozer was still snoring in the main room, the sound steadily carrying to where Deacon sat. Something moved just to the left of him, and Deacon steadily moved the rifle to try and see what it was. His heart skipped a beat as fear slowly crept into his mind. It was always like this, he never showed it when he was around the other, but he still feared the freaks, even more, the people. He let out an audible gasp when he saw the girl. Her Y/H/C hair was what he noticed first. It was a stark contrast against the green foliage.   
"Boozer..." He said, slowly backing down from his position, still keeping his body pointed in the place where he had last seen the women. "Boozer!" Boozer groaned in his bed, not waking up, merely shuffling positions. Deacon peaked into the main room but, not wanting to waste time, left his friend to sleep. He put the rifle down at the door and grabbed his pistol, and grabbed his compound bow, slinging it over his back quickly. "Fuck fuck fuck..." he muttered to himself as he made his way down the stairs of the tower. He took them two at a time, trying not to stomp on them and alert the girl that he was coming. He ran for the gate, and it opened slowly as he approached. The grass on the hill was wet, and he stumbled down it, his angle yanking at an awkward angle. He let out a sharp hiss of pain but continued to move towards where he had seen her. It was harder to find her once he was on her level and not above. He started to regret not waking Boozer. He would be able to see her through the scope of the riffle and guide him to her with the radios. Then he heard it, small whimpering just a little further ahead of him. He approached her from behind, wanting not to scare her and have an advantage if she drew a weapon.   
"Hello..." He ventured his voice low and soft tone. The girl turned rapidly and stood up as she saw him approach. Before he was able to calm he she raised a gun, pointing at his head. Deacon flinched and took a rapid step back, "Hey, woah, I-I-I I'm not here to hurt you." The girl stood there in silence. The gun still pointed at Deacon's head. Deacon nodded slowly and put his gun on the grass below him. He slowly raised his hands, he felt more fear and vulnerability than he had in a while, but he knew in the back of his mind that he needed to show this girl he wasn't going to harm her. He noticed the scars on her arms, and in a poor attempt to relate to her, pulled his sleeve up to reveal his own scars. The girl stared, still not speaking. The silence made Deacon uneasy. "Do you think you could...could maybe put the gun down?"  
Her Y/E/C eyes seemed to analyze him, and with another long moment of unbearable silence, she put the gun down and spoke. "You shouldn't sneak up on a girl during a zombie apocalypse."

Deacon let himself relax and chuckled, "Hey-" He put his hands down, "Look, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you, I just... I wanted the upper hand in case you were a ripper or-"

"A ripper? Those cult freaks?"

"Yeah... your scars, I thought- but you don't have the amount that they do, and of course, you lack the RIP on your forehead." The girl seemed to retract as he spoke those words, and Deacon wished he could've put it more delicately. He was never smooth with his words, not like Sarah. When he would wake up from a nightmare or have a major depressive episode, her words were never filled with judgment. She always had a way of talking to him that never felt him feel lesser, weak. She knew he was ashamed of himself but always reminded him that what he had done in the war was that of bravery. He turned to the girl and tried to soften his tone, "I have a, a lodging. Food, water and I've got a nice-ish bed. I say nice-ish because, well, the mattress is pretty warned down, but its better than-

"You talk a lot." She said, face still neutral. When Deacons smiled, dropped the girl visibly relaxed and smiled at him. "It's nice; most people don't spare me more than the standard questions and some food and water. No one has offered their bed to me in...well, years. Deacon extended his hand, trying to steady the barely noticeable shaking. The girl took it, the warm smile still on her face."

"Deacon."

"Nice to meet you, Deacon. I'm Y/N, now wheres that bed of yours."

* * *

"I thought you said I would get a bed and food," Y/N complained. Deacon shushed her looking down the site of his bow. "Well-" he whispered, "we need to catch the food first." A rabbit appeared a few yards in front of him, and Deacon prepared to shoot. There was a loud crackle of his radio, and it echoed in the silence of the forest. The rabbit scurried away, Y/N sighed, and Deacon put his bow down and clicked the radio on. 

"Boozer?"

"Deek! Jesus, where are you? I woke up, and you're gone. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, Boozer, I'm fine. I found a stray."

"A stray?" Y/N hissed, her face showing the tiniest t bit of hurt. Deacon made a face of apology and wished that he could speak as Sarah did for the second time that day.

"A stray? Deek, I dunno, it's tight here as is. You sure you wanna trust someone new?"

"Yeah, Boozeman, she, she needed help, she's alone."

"She?" Boozer questioned, his voice crackling over the radio.

"Look, Boozer. I'm trying to get us some lunch. I'll explain more once we get back."

"Alright, Deek...(pause) but man, you better be right about her." Deacon turned the switch on his radio, and it clicked off.

"Your friend seems nice," Y/N said, sarcasm dripping from her voice. Deacon picked up his bow and started to walk, Y/N having to jog to catch up to him. "Look, I'm sorry you're taking me in, and I'm grateful I really am. I mean no disrespect."

"Don't worry about it," Deacon murmured, still focused on trying to catch something to eat. His stomach growled, and he started to notice that he was feeling increasingly weak. He and Boozer had not been able to catch a good meal for about a week now, and the radio scared away what could've been a decent meal. He tripped over a branch and cried out in frustration and pain. Y/N jolted, startled and stopped walking. Deacon stayed on the ground lifting his hands to his temple. "FUCK!" He yelled, Rocking himself back and forth. Y/N approached him slowly and sat beside him. 

"You're not crazy, are you?" She said in a joking tone. 

"Depends on who you ask." He said.

"I guess we're all a little crazy these days, huh."

Deacon stood up, hissing as pain shot up his let. He extended a hand towards Y/N, helping her up.

"Come on, let's get back. I promised you a bed, remember?"

"Oh, I remember," Y/N smiled brightly.


	2. You promised me a bed, Remember?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Y/N and Deek head back to the tower, Deek is restless and as they get back something stops them from entering

"How long have you been out here?" Deacon asked as he scanned left and right. Something was making him uneasy, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. "Stay close," he added. Y/N looked around, trying to figure out what he was so worried about. She shook off the feeling that this man was a danger to her. 

"I've been on my own a couple of months now, its...well I'm sure you know how it can be," Y/N said as she followed Deacon through the foliage. He knew he should respond to her, but something just wasn't right. "But what is it?" He said aloud to a confused Y/N. He stopped and listened. There were no obvious sounds that were out of the norm. "I-" he muttered and continued to walk. Y/N sped up to catch up to him and put a hand on his shoulder, Deacon flinched, and she removed her hand quickly.

"Sorry, just, are you okay?"

"Yeah, just- dunno, I have this weird feeling."

"Oh... how's your ankle?"

"What?"

"You fell earlier remember?"

Deacon sighed a heavy breath, "Yeah, it hurts, but what can I do? I have to ignore it."

"Do you have medical supplies at your place? I could wrap it for you."

Deacon chuckled, "what are you, a nurse."

"I was going to be...before." Y/N's face fell, and he wished he had been a bit more sensitive. His ankle had been bothering him for a while now, but he had learned to ignore pain when he was a child. The truth was, though, he had felt this pain for over an hour, and it hadn't dulled. He massaged his temple and looked at Y/N. 

"I guess you could be pretty useful after all; that will make Boozer happy."

Y/N scoffed, "Well, jeez, no need to sugarcoat it, but yes, I have quite a bit of training, and you-" Deacon swayed on his feet a little, raising his hand to his temple yet again to try a dull a low pain that began behind his eyes. He felt nauseous, and his ankle was throbbing in pain. "-Hey, maybe sit down? how far are we from your uh, place?"

Deacon lowered himself to the ground and let out a low groan. Y/N sat beside him, placing her backpack in the dirt and turning to him. "So how much further?"

"Not far, maybe like five minutes. I (groans) I can walk it. We need to get back. Boozer is probably worried."

"Look, if we are this close, then just let me look at your ankle now; it will only take about a minute."

"No, look, I'm fine really."

"Do you have a headache?"

"Yeah"

"Trobbing or-"

"Look, Y/N, I know what you are trying to do. It's fine, let's go."

"Hey, come on, let me help you; you promised me a bed, remember?" Deacon let in and began to remove his boot, it was painful, and his hands began to shake as it came off.  
"I-I-I can't... I can't," he strained, leaving the boot half off. Y/N moved closer to him, "Let me help."


	3. You promised me a bed, Remember?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pain of his ankle and throbbing headache becomes a lot for Deacon to handle, Y/N offers their best to help him, but Deacon is stubborn and wants to get back to Boozer before the light fades. He is starving and tired, and he and Y/N must make it back before dark and with a meal for three.

"Just let me help," Y/N moved so that deacon could sit down on the ground and kneeled in front of him. Deacon tried to object, but he could feel the pain in his ankle, and he knew he had twisted it wrong. Not to mention the throbbing headache that had started about five minutes ago. He tried to help y/n remove his boot, but he couldn't do it. Y/n pushed his hand away and unlaced the boot, exposing a swollen foot. "Fuck" y/n whispered as she assessed the situation. 

"What's wrong? Do we need to amputate," Deacon said, trying to lighten the mood. Y/n shook her head and dug into her backpack. Deacon flinched as she removed her hand, half expecting a gun. Y/n didn't notice the flinch and pulled out the tensor bandage inside the bag.

"You really don't trust people, do you?" They said as they removed Deacon's sock, his foot was swollen, and purple crept up from his ankle as a bruise formed. Again Y/N let out a small hiss as they saw the damage. Deacon watched as they reached out their hand to touch his foot. He couldn't help but recoil away, subconsciously not trusting that a stranger would help. He groaned as a throbbing pain travelled up his leg. 

"Try not to move it- I'm not trying to hurt you, let me feel your ankle. I think it may be broken."

"Broken? You're fucking- fuck." Y/n reached out their hand again. Deacon didn't move this time, their hands were soft around his foot, and the pressure felt nice.

"Can you push against my hand here" Deacon tried, "Okay and push up....hmmm. Push down, like a gas peddles, are you-" Y/n looked up and saw the strain on Deacons face. "Okay, okay. That's good. You can stop."

"So?" Deacon inquired, raising a brow, "What do you think, Doc."

"Yeah.. I think your fibula is cracked...broken. I need to wrap this and apply a splint. It won't be pretty, and I'll have to find a stick or something."

"How long till I'm okay to walk on it?"

"Properly? Never unless there's a real doc around here. I haven't heard of any, though."

"Lost lake," Deacon muttered as Y/N began to wrap his ankle.

"Huh?"

"Can you hunt?" Deacon asks, not repeating his last sentence.

"How do you think I survived all this time? Of course, I can hunt."

"Good. Cause we need food, and we are running out of time."

* * *

Y/n looked down the rifle that Deacon had given them, letting out concentrated breaths, and they scanned the area below for signs of life. Deacon had his crossbow at the ready for when they spotted something. 

"Better be big," he muttered. They had been out for at least 5 hours, Boozer hadn't radioed in, and Deacon could tell that they were losing light. 

"Got it," Y/n murmured, moving the rifle.

" Wher-" a branch broke behind them, and Deacon swirled around. A group of freaks made their way towards the pair. Deacon shot, missed, swore and shot again; Y/N still hadn't turned around to help.

"Hey Y-," Another freaked charged him, knocking his bow out of his hands. Deacon stumbled on his bad leg, his head colliding with a tree. He yelled in pain, quickly taking out his boot knife. He took two, three slashes at the freaks, getting one in the leg as it let out an animalistic howl of pain. He counted how many there were, 4 maybe 5 of them there. He could take them, even with just his knife. He had beaten more with less. He moved his arms out, left and right, slashing low and high. He flipped the knife in his hands and took a stab at one of them, moving his arm and body quickly to get the knife right into the jugular of the freak. It went down with a thud, and Deacon fell with it, pulling up the knife to stab it once more. Something caught his arm, and he yanked and rolled away as the three other freakers began to get more aggressive and move in.

"Y/N! A LITTLE FUCKING HELP HERE?!" He called out, and he took yet another freak down. Its arm lay severed, fingered attached to his boot where it had tried to grab him. He kicked it away with disgust. A shot fired, then another flew right past Deacon's head, and he ducked in shock, the loud and sudden sound ringing in his ears. There was a loud thud behind him, and Deacon turned his head to see a dead freak. He quickly scrambled for his crossbow and turned. Aiming it at Y/N, who had the gun on him. 

"What the fuck are you-" Y/N immediately dropped the rifle in fear, raising their empty hands.

"HEY HEY! don't I was just shooting the rotter!" They cried out, taking a small step back and away from Deacon. Deacon turned again to look at the freak, a deep clean hole in its head where the bullet had been lodged. He lowered the bow and scooped up the rifle that Y/N had dropped. "A little sooner would've been nice," he murmured, reached behind his head. His hand came back with blood, and he looked at the tree the Freaker had thrown him into to see more blood on the bark. 

"You...I- I shot a d-deer," Y/n said, moving away as Deacon came closer to them. He took little notice and looked down at the sight of the rifle. 

"Where." Y/n moved beside him, slowly and nervously, then pushed the rifle, so it lined up with the kill. Deacon's head drooped as he looked through the riffle; his eyes becoming the tiniest bit blurred. He tried harder to focus on what he was supposed to see. "W-w-where?"

"Right in front of you." Deacon couldn't spot the deer and, for a second, considered subduing Y/N and leaving them there, thinking the whole idea of taking in strays had been a bad one from the start. Then he spotted it. 

"Okay...okay, look, I'm sorry about- I'm sorry, let's go get it and head back before we lose the light".


End file.
